


Devil and Guile

by grimfey (renardroi)



Series: Devil and Guile [1]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, Fae & Fairies, Fae Clay | Dream, M/M, Magic bonds, Minecraft is a Futuristic VR Game and NOT BLOCKS, Multi, Tags May Change, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/grimfey
Summary: Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;This is not Romeo, he's some other where.He laid where he was, drifting in and out of consciousness and wondering all the while if he had somehow died. Some part of him acknowledged that it couldn’t be so, but his thoughts tumbled onwards without any proper sense or guidance from him, and the theories he had for how he had come to be in this position became more convoluted the longer he sat with them. Dead, or banished to the wrong plane, or forcefully removed from his magic in some dark ritual. Anything seemed likely.Faerie Dream AU + Futuristic VR Game AUDream's POV, heavy focus on Dream/George.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Devil and Guile [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093346
Comments: 22
Kudos: 72





	1. Other Where

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT:** I'd like to clarify my stance on sharing: I don't like when my fics are posted WITHOUT context, in ways I can't control. I am not on tumblr, so I stick with stance on saying please do not post this (the full text, snippets, or rec links, etc.) on there. However, I will alter my statement for twitter, and say that rec links on twitter (I cannot emphasize this enough: WITH appropriate warnings) are okay if I am tagged so that I can see them. My personal twitter is @grimfey. I just ask you be respectful, and if I request the post be deleted, please do so. Thank you guys for your understanding. Really, it's not even this fandom I'm concerned about I've just had stuff happen in other fandoms that has traumatized me, so I apologize if all of this feels excessive. **End of edit.**
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc. 
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp. 
> 
> This fic is for fun and probably won't be explicit. I honestly don't plan on this being a very romantic fic either, because it's about the yearning and because I am pretty much a whump writer. I love death and dying, that's your official warning. But also I'm a coward so we'll see. The original core idea of this fic did start off as an AU and then became something that I developed for some oc's and now I've turned it around and am writing this as an AU again, so if it seems extremely specific and niche or slightly off in characterization that's why. 
> 
> Also sorry in advance. I am very slow and sometimes don't finish things. :'(

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;  
>  This is not Romeo, he's some other where._
> 
> “That’s stupid. Can he talk?” The taller person crouched, carelessly swinging their sword over their shoulder and resting it there. Then they waved a hand in front of Dream’s masked face and loudly shouted down at him. “Hello! Can you speak?!” 
> 
> “Sapnap, don’t —” 
> 
> Dream’s lips parted against his will, and he could feel how dry and coarse his throat was from disuse when he gave his metered reply. “Hello.”

> ROMEO  
>  _Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;_  
>  _This is not Romeo, he's some other where._
> 
> BENVOLIO  
>  _Tell me in sadness, who is that you love._
> 
> ROMEO  
>  _What, shall I groan and tell thee?_
> 
> BENVOLIO  
>  _Groan! why, no._  
>  _But sadly tell me who._

* * *

The first time that Dream awoke and found himself completely untethered, it was a harsh shock to his body. There was a yawning emptiness in his chest where his magic was supposed to be, only tattered pieces still left hanging on here and there, and without anything to anchor themselves to. His blood felt thick and heavy in his veins, his breaths were labored and slow, and his body seemed generally unwilling to move. For a long while, despite the creeping horror he felt as more and more time seemed to slip away, he couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes and take in his surroundings.

He laid where he was, drifting in and out of consciousness and wondering all the while if he had somehow died. Some part of him acknowledged that it couldn’t be so, but his thoughts tumbled onwards without any proper sense or guidance from him, and the theories he had for how he had come to be in this position became more convoluted the longer he sat with them. Dead, or banished to the wrong plane, or forcefully removed from his magic in some dark ritual. Anything seemed likely. 

It was almost a relief when the sun woke him properly, its brightness like a blade against his eyelids when it rose above some hidden horizon. Dream blinked, opening his eyes to blurry green shapes curving down towards his face against a backdrop of blue and piercing rays of white light. Despite the fact that it seemed to already be mid-morning on a beautifully clear day, the sun peaking over the long grass didn’t warm him. Neither did the damp and cold ground underneath him really reach his bones. He held still for a little longer, trying to decipher if his senses had been dulled by the loss of most of his magic, or if the universe had been mysteriously broken in some critical way, before deciding that the first option was probably more likely. 

Dream brought a hand to his face, hoping to rub his eyes and clear some of the tunnel vision he had, and instead found himself groping at his mask. His mask. How strange. He didn’t remember putting it on - although, he didn’t remember much of how he had gotten here. 

Distracted so by his predicament, the danger of his prone position didn’t truly strike him until he heard voices approaching. He didn’t get much of a warning, only a couple of voices shouting back and forth and then the sound of two or three footsteps, distant and padded by greenery, before a short figure seemed to burst through the waist-high grass. They tripped over him, kicking him hard in the hip, and then collapsing on top of him and kneeing him in the ribs while they were at it. Dream caught a glimpse of short hair and the outline of what might have been armor, before the figure yelped and scrambled away like they had fallen upon a rattlesnake. 

Dream was left blinking up at the sky again. 

There was a back and forth between the figure on the ground and some unseen second person, in a language that took Dream a few moments to pin down as English. 

Just as quickly as they had backed away the figure was kneeling over him again, their face deep in shadow as they placed themself directly between him and the sun. Dream groaned, partly in relief as his eyes adjusted to the shade, and then in delayed pain as his body finally processed the kick, and the person hovering over him gave an answering sigh, their shoulders slumping in obvious relief. Ah, his mask. They couldn’t see that he was looking at them, and they may well have assumed that he was a dead body with how minute his reaction had been to being run over. 

“What the hell, George?” The newcomer was broader, and definitely taller than his companion. They seemed to have a partial set of armor as well, and a sword in hand as they parted the green grass, both of which glinted in the sunlight. “Oh - wait. I thought you said the server had a whitelist.” 

“It does! It’s just supposed to be us!” George replied haughtily. He scoffed at the other person, purposefully turning away from them to focus his attention on Dream. The move seemed intentionally dismissive and rude, but for some reason he sounded guilty as he muttered a half-assed explanation. “Maybe it’s...an NPC. It doesn’t look like the villagers.” 

It was odd, Dream thought, understanding the language of mortals and yet not being able to decipher what the fuck they were talking about. Being called an ‘it’ didn’t bother him so much as not knowing what they thought he was. Whatever an ‘NPC’ was, evidently it wasn’t intimidating enough to keep the two of them away from him. 

“That’s stupid. Can he talk?” The taller person crouched, carelessly swinging their sword over their shoulder and resting it there. Then they waved a hand in front of Dream’s masked face and loudly shouted down at him. “Hello! Can you speak?!” 

“Sapnap, don’t —” 

Dream’s lips parted against his will, and he could feel how dry and coarse his throat was from disuse when he gave his metered reply. “Hello.” 

His voice sounded about as good as it felt, which was shit, and it seemed that neither of the people above him had actually expected an answer. They both recoiled a little in surprise, George’s hand hesitating in midair as it had been reaching for Dream’s neck or face — it was hard to tell from his position. 

“Weird.” The one that had been called Sapnap, which wasn’t a name Dream was remotely familiar with, shifted his grip on his sword nervously. “Well, either it’s the worst update this game has gotten, or this dude somehow hacked into the server. Try banning him.” 

George rolled his eyes, and unraveled a scroll that on any other occasion Dream would have assumed had been apparated out of thin air. In this instance, though, there was no brilliant flash of magic, no liquid bismuth nor opaline halo that would have accompanied a spell. He had to assume that it had just been a trick of the light. 

“He’s not on the server list, but it says three people online.” George glanced sideways at Dream, and seemed to double or triple-check whatever was written on his scroll. Dream could see him tense in real time, too, his shoulders rising and his hands tightening on the vellum before it disappeared and he looked to Sapnap who was more than ready to gripe. 

“I don’t like this. He keeps staring at you.” 

George raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “Maybe it’s...injured? Or it could be some kind of bug. Either way, I don’t think it’s dangerous. He’s unarmed and he hasn’t tried to attack us.” 

“You haven’t given me a reason to.” Dream said simply, fixing his gaze on Sapnap’s sword. It didn’t appear to be the most skillfully crafted sword, nor decorated, but the man carried it like he was familiar with the weight. He knew how much strength it took to move it. That didn’t necessarily mean that he could fight with skill, however. A page could hold a sword as well as any knight. 

Despite his blurry vision, he could see that Sapnap was glaring. His brows furrowed angrily and he shifted his grip on his sword again, and generally managed to radiate anger and malcontent with his posture. It was impressive, Dream had to hand it to him. How humans managed to muster so much rage in their frail bodies was beyond him. 

“Yeah, alright, buddy. You’re talking a lot of smack for a homeless guy.” Sapnap gestured to the grass around them. 

George sighed and shrugged a small pack off of his shoulders. It didn’t look like it could hold much, perhaps a couple of scrolls and a skein on the inside, but he did have a simple woodcutter’s axe and a small utilitarian shovel attached to the outside of it, hanging in little leather loops on either side. They did not, however, have anything to cover the blades of the tools, which seemed like an oversight. George dropped the pack in front of him, uncomfortably close to Dream’s head, who didn’t appreciate being eye to eye with polished and sharpened cold iron. Even if he was quite sure that the short human held very little ill will towards him, certainly not enough to mean it as a threat, it still felt like one. 

“— you hear me?” 

“What?” Dream shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. 

George huffed in frustration, his hands hovering like he wanted to do something with them but couldn’t bring himself to actually follow through. “I asked if you’re hurt. How did you get here? Who are you?” 

“His mask is too tight,” Sapnap muttered, clearly more interested in agitating Dream than getting information. “Or his headset. Aren’t those supposed to boot you out if you faint or something? If you’re fucking around with the safeties, I hope you at least own it. I swear, if this is just some weird attempt at RP, you’re getting banned.” 

“I don’t have any of those. The… headset.” Dream was glad that the mask was hiding his face. Usually he was fairly good at keeping his expressions neutral, but he was so caught off guard by these strange humans that it was difficult to maintain it. He looked at George curiously, instinctively trying to regain some kind of conversational upperhand. “It’s not very polite to interrogate someone without getting to know them first. I may have answers, but…”

Delicately, like it might knock loose the remains of his magic, Dream pushed himself up onto his elbows. His vision spun dangerously, and he had to shut his eyes against the spots of color in his vision. There were no injuries, no flesh wounds anyways, but everything hurt. He felt like he’d been chewed on by a basilisk and then spat out again. And he had nothing to orient himself around, no tether in his magic and sense of direction or belonging. Even if he didn’t know why or what it meant, there was something missing and he could feel its absence. For a minute, it felt like his mind and body were spinning out of control, and he nearly fell back against the grass again. 

“Woah.” Someone caught him, grasping at the front of his tunic and stopping him from hitting his head on the ground. Dream blindly reached for them, clutching at the arm holding him with little regard for how it made him look. The skin contact was grounding, even from a stranger, and reminded him that he still had corporeal form. He was not a ghost or spirit. 

Another set of hands touched his mask, feeling along the edges of it and brushing against his jaw delicately, and Dream deduced very quickly that the gentleness probably had to be George. Which meant that Sapnap, despite his apparent hostility, had still been nice enough to not let him fall over. 

It was George then who betrayed him, tearing the mask off without permission and grabbing Dream’s face. It seemed to be done out of concern, if the flashes of George’s frowning face were to be trusted, but it still felt invasive, especially now that he felt the sun’s brightness sevenfold on his retinas. 

“Are you okay?” 

Dream could hardly process the question, let alone answer it. His magic was desperate to have something to hold onto, and didn’t seem keen on letting him carry on a conversation until he addressed the problem. But there was nothing. The earth and the grass and the land here had no magic or power that he could feel, though he wondered if he was just too weak to sense it. The only thing he had in front of him were two humans, and the thought of tying his magic to them — two _mortals_ , what he did not know and could perish at any second — it was repulsive on every level. 

And still, in a fit of desperation that he was probably going to regret for years, Dream let his magic reach for them. It latched onto them eagerly, and the sensation was like being stranded in the water in the middle of a storm, and scrambling aboard a battered-looking raft. Certainly, he was no longer drowning, but he wasn’t out of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Soon We'll Be Found - Sia](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=rVhqRFGKSvy_RWs3BdxhVg)
> 
> (not an endorsement of Sia, considering recent events, but I still like this album :/ )
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp.


	2. Bid Us Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Are you sure_   
>  _That we are awake?_
> 
> George rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and interrupted with a very quiet, “Hello.” 
> 
> Dream looked askance at the human, stiffening a little as the compulsory reply came out. “Hello?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp.
> 
> **CW: Blood, injury.**
> 
> Sorry if my characterizations are weird, I'm relatively new here and haven't really written them weird.

> HELENA  
>  _So methinks:_  
>  _And I have found Demetrius like a jewel,_  
>  _Mine own, and not mine own._
> 
> DEMETRIUS  
>  _Are you sure_  
>  _That we are awake? It seems to me_  
>  _That yet we sleep, we dream. Do not you think_  
>  _The duke was here, and bid us follow him?_

* * *

When Dream was finally recovered enough, he opened his eyes and was startled to see George so close to his face. Now that he was just a few inches away, he could make out some of the subtler features on the man’s face. The slight scruff on his chin, the muted brown of his eyes, and the slight furrow in his brow as he looked down at Dream in concern. There was something off about his face, though, that he couldn’t put his finger on. Not a lie, exactly, but something that wasn’t quite true. George seemed to realize that he was staring at the same time that Dream realized he was still holding on to Sapnap’s arm, and they let go. 

“Ouch.” Sapnap rubbed his forearm, making a face at Dream. “Dude has a… death grip. I think he shocked me, too — what the hell is this guy.” 

With his head suddenly feeling clearer, Dream shrugged off his embarrassment and sat himself up properly. 

“You’re, um, you’re okay, then? You’re not injured?” George asked, looking down at his leather armor and brushing off dust that Dream could not see. Eventually he gestured down to his bag, and he cleared his throat. “I have some food if you need it. For regen.” 

Dream sighed. “I won’t eat of your food. I’m fine. And I’m obviously intruding on your… territory. Tell me where I am, and I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Maybe six kilometers from spawn.” George offered uncertainly. 

Sapnap stood, looking impatient as he sheathed his sword. He cut a striking figure, as he glared down at them. Without the cover of the long grass, the plains wind was tearing at his clothes and hair, but he seemed to hardly notice. “You’re just going to let him wander off? We don’t even know how he got here.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” George started, speaking to both Dream and Sapnap as if it explained something, “except for spawn. And we don’t even have a house there anymore. Seriously we’ve only been on the server for maybe a couple of hours total; there’s nothing to grief.” 

“That doesn’t mean we should let him stay on the server.” Sapnap grumbled. “Just ban him.” 

“He doesn’t have a username, he’s not on the list. I don’t think it’s easy.” 

They bickered back and forth, and Dream took the opportunity to pick up his mask. It had been discarded like trash, and as much as he knew he should be appreciative of the human capacity for kindness — worrying about his health despite not knowing him, or having any reason to trust him was evidence enough of that — he was offended on behalf of his mask. Dream turned it over in his hands, trying to use his sleeve to scrub away some of the dirt and scuffs. It did nothing for the large crack down the middle of the mask, but there wasn’t a lot he could do for it. 

If it weren’t for the fact that both of the tools on George’s pack were made of iron, he would have been tempted to steal away with them while the humans were busy arguing over him. They were distracted and he had ample opportunity, but it was too great of a risk when he had no idea how far it was to safety. 

Sapnap’s gruff voice cut through his thoughts. “Fine. Then I say we kill him.” 

“And then he’ll be at spawn, and we’ll be too far away to stop him from running off.” 

“ _Or_.” Sapnap pointed aggressively at Dream. “It’s an NPC and he’ll just be dead. Worst case scenario, he’s a sweaty griefing roleplayer and we just start a new server. One that actually has whitelist turned on.” 

The tone of the fight up until now hadn’t been friendly per se, but it hadn’t had any real venom behind it. George seemed to snap, however, at whatever accusation was hidden under mention of the list — white list?

“It _is_ on. I’m not an idiot, Sapnap.” George got to his feet as well, gesturing angrily at the ground around them. “There’s something weird about this! We never got a notification saying he logged in, he’s not on the server list, and there’s no way they put out some crazy AI update without telling people or rolling it out to singleplayer first. I - I don’t know how to explain it, but I’m telling you the whitelist is on.” 

“Clearly it’s not.” 

There was no point in staying if even one of them was seriously considering killing him, no matter how much the other was against it. Dream rubbed the runes on the inside of the mask briefly and tugged it on over his head. It wasn’t ideal to wear it while running, but he needed to keep his hands free just in case. 

“This is so stupid.” Sapnap drew his sword again, swinging it playfully. “How ‘bout I kill you both? Then that way, if he respawns, you’ll be there to stop him.” 

Dream took a deep breath, gathering his tired body up into a crouch and trying to peer over the top of the grass. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of something on the horizon — preferably trees — that might offer him some cover, or a hiding place, but he couldn’t see past the pale flowers blowing in the wind and obscuring his vision. If there were trees, they were going to be a ways away. 

He kept low to the ground, testing the water by taking a few steps away from the squabble happening only a few feet away from him. For a brief moment, it looked like they were truly too distracted to notice him trying to steal away into the silvergrass, but they must have come to some consensus or Sapnap must have decided to do as he liked. He turned, looking down at the spot that Dream had been sitting and then immediately up to where Dream now crouched. 

“Hey!” The man shouted, and George turned to look around as well. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

“Away from you.” Dream answered, and launched into a full tilt run. He paid little attention which way he was going, except that it was in the exact opposite direction of the humans after him. He staggered a few times, tripping on unseen patches where the ground rose or fell, but after a moment he started to get a better feel for the movement of the land. It was still difficult to carve a path through grass, but he had an advantage over Sapnap and George. He had no gear or heavy armor to contend with, and the wilderness was his home regardless of whether or not he was in his realm. 

Behind him he could hear Sapnap and George shouting at him, but the shape of the words were lost in the wind blowing in from the — east? No. West? Strange. Thankfully, he could see a line of trees in the distance. His salvation, even if they looked wrong and uninviting. Only a hundred or so yards away from him, and then he could… probably find his way home. Probably. 

Something flew past his head, small and round, and for a split second Dream thought the humans had decided to just start throwing rocks at him. George hadn’t been armed, as far as he had been able to tell, so it didn’t seem impossible — however the ‘rock’ that flew past him landed in the grass and exploded into a cloud of magenta smoke. It caught him by surprise, seeing what looked like a pauper’s version of magic shimmering on the air only a few paces from him, and he staggered to a stop to stare at it. 

Dream narrowed his eyes at the smoke. 

Not just smoke. A person. Sapnap cut through the smoke sword-first, already swinging the blade in a wide arc as he landed. 

“You think you can run from me?!” He crowed triumphantly, laughing and already hefting his sword over his shoulder again as he stalked forward. 

Dream panicked, and reached for his own sword — or rather, where his sword should have been. There was nothing there. He chanced a look down at himself, only to see that he didn’t even have his sword belt. He was practically in his bedclothes for how unprepared he was. When he looked up again, Sapnap was in front of him, bringing his sword down in an overhead arc. It was too late to dodge, and with nothing else to block or parry the sword, Dream put his arm out to take the brunt of the blow. 

The sword cut deep, but he didn’t feel it at first. For a moment, all he could feel was a static numbness shooting up to his shoulder as the impact rattled his bones. It hurt in an aching kind of way, but it wasn’t unbearable, not until Sapnap tried to yank his sword back. It stuck fast on the first try, and Dream’s vision went white as every nerve ending in his arm simultaneously rushed to tell him how fucked he was. With a gasp, he dropped to his knees.

“Sapnap!” George shouted, still trying to catch up.

The second attempt went better, and by the time that Dream managed to get a grip on his arm and put pressure on the wound, both of his hands were already soaked in blood. 

“You — son of a…” Dream gulped air, unable to think of a proper curse in English that would voice his wrath. Only one thing was echoing in his mind, and it was what was going to be his undoing. He didn’t dare look at the wound. “Goddamn… iron sword…”

“Christ.” George panted as he came to a stop next to them, resting his hands on his knees. He looked between them, frowning in distaste. “You shouldn’t have run. Sapnap’s like a grizzly bear, or a… uh a cat.” 

“Wh — at?” Dream asked, his voice breaking over the word. 

Sapnap laughed. “Yeah, honestly, George. What the hell are you talking about?” 

“You know.” George straightened and crossed his arms, defensive. “If you run, their prey drive, like, gets activated? You’re supposed to play dead or something.” 

“I don’t think that’s grizzly bears,” Sapnap argued, as Dream was bleeding out in front of the both of them and forced to listen to their inane babbling. “You’re thinking of black bears. Grizzly bears you have to shout at.” 

“No, you don’t! Grizzly bears are… bigger I think.” 

“Whatever, Gogy. Do you even have bears in England?”

Dream muttered a curse to himself, baffled by the ability of these humans to go from childish bickering to murderous and back again in the space of only a few minutes. But maybe this was normal, he thought as he tried to stand again. After all it had been a long time since he had stopped to converse with one for more than… well, actually, now that he was thinking about it, he couldn’t recall the last time he had spoken to one at all. 

“Oh.” George dropped the argument suddenly, and stepped up to Dream’s side. “Hello, sorry, let me help.” 

“Hello.” Dream replied, practically spitting the word, and ignoring George’s outstretched arm. The apology was cute, but he wasn’t going to accept aid in standing as reparation for being stabbed and poisoned. 

Sapnap pointed his sword down at Dream “Yes, _hello_. It’s rude to run away in the middle of a conversation.”

“Hello,” he repeated reluctantly, voice rough. “Your conversation wasn’t with me. If anyone has poor manners, I should think it’s you. I wouldn’t call that honorable combat.” 

When he was on his feet again, he glared at both of the humans in turn. Sapnap seemed unaffected, and George had his face screwed up in confusion, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. 

“I guess.” Sapnap shrugged. “You’re the one who hacked into the server somehow, though, so I don’t feel that bad.” 

Blood was soaking into his tunic now, as he held his arm close. “I have attacked no one and nothing since waking up here. If I’ve crossed into your borders, I can assure you it was not done on purpose, and I am _trying_ to leave. I’m sure we’d both prefer for me to be out of your hair, so…” 

George rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and interrupted with a very quiet, “Hello.” 

Dream looked askance at the human, stiffening a little as the compulsory reply came out. “Hello?” 

“Hello.” George laughed a little to himself, and Dream frowned.

“Hello. Stop.” This was stupid. And quite possibly the worst conversation that Dream had ever had the displeasure of participating in. 

Thankfully, Sapnap hadn’t caught on to what George was doing. “ _Hacked_. Hacked into the server. And you can’t just walk out into the wilderness. If you screw something up, then we have to find you out there.” 

Exhausted by their conversation running in circles, Dream huffed in frustration. “I’ve not _hacked_ into any server. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any of what you’ve _been_ talking about. I don’t know what server you mean, I don’t know what or where your spawn is, or what an NPC is supposed to be.” 

George laughed again, practically cackling. “See, he’s weird. He’s like… not real. He’s like Herobrine, except he’s actually here and he’s talking to us. Look! Hello!” 

“Hello.” 

Sapnap made a face at his companion. “You think this guy, who’s — who’s ass I just totally kicked, by the way, is Herobrine?” 

“No!” George struggled to get his words out in between laughs. “I just mean he’s weird. He’s an SCP or a bad creepypasta. Here in our game.”

Dream stared at both of them, aghast. His arm was starting to go numb again, but the pain was creeping up towards his shoulder. It was hard to keep a good grip on the bleeding wound, especially when his muscles involuntarily twitched in pain. “Please, shut up. I hate the both of you. Tell me where I am and let me leave, or I swear I’ll…” 

He trailed off, trying to think of anything that he actually could do. With how little magic he had, the worst he could do was a minor curse. Something that might not come back to hurt them for years, and he needed to persuade them _now_. How had he gotten himself into this position? Where was his sword, his host, his steed? He couldn’t recall what they looked like, but he knew that they were supposed to be here. He shouldn’t have stepped foot out of his realm without them. Something earth-shattering had to have happened for him to be here without them. 

George took pity on him, mouth curled into a wry smile, which he despised. “You’re in a video game. It’s not real. So you’re not anywhere on earth.” 

Dream stared in disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you’re taking this guy seriously, George.” Sapnap sheathed his bloodied sword. 

“I’m not! This is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened in this game, though, you have to admit. I can’t explain it.” George shifted, putting himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Sapnap and leaning on him conspiratorially. “Don’t you think we should see what happens? Worst case scenario; we delete the server and start over. Ugh, I can’t believe this happened on our private server — imagine if this had happened while we were streaming.” 

“Video game?” Dream cut in, trying to piece together what they were talking about. 

“Oh, please.” Sapnap scoffed at him. “You know, computers?” 

“Sapnap, I don’t think he —” 

“Yes, I know what computers are.” Dream ground out, doing his best to concentrate on the conversation. He is surprised to realize that he must be telling the truth. He doesn’t have any memory of where he would have learned about computers, but the concept is not unfamiliar. Vast cathedrals to human nonsense and obsession with calculation. But the images that he conjured in his head were complicated and ugly pieces of human craft, metal and plastic, towers and tubes, blinking lights and spinning parts. He was standing in a field of silvergrass, maybe a hundred feet from a treeline made up of golden birch and oak — and that was strange, sure, but it was not machinery. It was not covered in the foul stench of industry. 

“Well, we play games on the computers.” Sapnap gestured at George. “He’s in England, I’m in Texas. It’s… online. I can’t believe I’m even trying to explain this. This is a joke.” 

In his muddled state, Dream could only draw a connection between this concept and maybe scrying, but it was hard to figure out what the implications were. He did not think he could be injured by a scry so physically, or that he could be so overcome by the illusion of being elsewhere. If he wasn’t here, standing in this field, where _was_ he? He shook his head, trying to assure himself that the humans were lying. 

He straightened his shoulders, and reluctantly held out a hand to Sapnap. “May I have your name?” 

Sapnap made a face at the blood on Dream’s hand, but hesitantly shook it anyways. “Sapnap.” 

Ah. Well that proved it then. He could taste the half truth of the name, even like this. And earlier he had thought there was something odd about George’s appearance, a similar kind of half-truth. If they were lying to him about this, then he probably would have sensed it. He didn’t understand, but he could accept it as the truth and not some vain attempt at deception. Not that it mattered much. If he was truly not in the mortal realm, nor his homeland, then he was beyond help. 

“Hey, wait, you’re not going to ask me?” George put his hand on his hip. 

Dream choked on a short laugh, but instead of admitting to the test, he held out his hand again. “Hello. May I have your name?” 

George grinned brightly at him. “No.” 

Sighing, Dream rolled his eyes. “Well, the both of you have been extremely unhelpful. But, I’m sure the two of you can agree that I’m not a threat. I will take my leave.” 

“Where are you going?” Sapnap asked, a tint of confusion shading his voice, as he rested his hand on his sword hilt again. Of course he would have problems letting Dream leave, and always with some threat of violence. Why did humans have to be so obstinate? 

“There’s nothing out there.” George explained, shrugging his pack off of his shoulder again and starting to take a few items out. “The computer will just keep making new land, and you’ll just walk for ages. Swim too I guess. If you walk forever you might get to the Far Lands, but that’s… I think like twenty thousand kilometers out, or something ridiculous. And it’s just because the world generation starts to break a little bit.” 

Dream just stared at him.

“Look. If you don’t believe us, I’ll give you my stuff.” While Dream and Sapnap watched, George pulled out a few bars of iron from his bag, and dropped them on the ground haphazardly. “We can make new tools and stuff. Take these, and the food. Walk as far as you like, and when you realize that we’re right then you can use the compass to get back.” 

Sapnap muttered in protest. “Are you serious?”

“Yes!” George pulled the compass out of the bag and held it out to Dream. 

More iron. Of course. 

Fuck it, he was already poisoned. What could be the harm? Dream took it, ignoring the way the blood on his hands bubbled and hissed for a second before settling. The compass was warm in his hands, and spun once before pointing off in a direction. After a moment of mentally tracing his steps while the compass seeped iron into his skin, he was relatively sure that it did indeed point the way that the humans had come from. 

“You won’t follow?” Dream asked as George set the bag down in front of him.

“Umm…” George hesitated, despite having been willing to give up his belongings, he wasn’t going to give Dream this one thing.

Sapnap elbowed him. “Jeez, you’re so weird. Fine we won’t follow you. But I doubt you’ll last very long out there, so we’ll see you at spawn.” 

He was tempted to ask them to swear to it, but he could tell that he was already pressing his luck, so instead he picked up the bag and dropped the compass in. His arm was bleeding less now, for ill or for good, but he wanted to get a little bit of distance between him and the humans before trying to bandage it. 

“There’s food and stuff to make a campfire in there. The server will stay on as long as you’re here, I think, so you should be fine.” George started rambling in a rush, as if he’d just realized he hadn’t explained anything enough. “If you die, and we’re not at spawn just stay there, okay? We might not be online, but we’ll be back eventually. We’re on like all the time but we do actually have to sleep.” 

Dream blinked, but nodded. He was fairly sure that if he died he wouldn’t be moving, but he supposed all things were possible. 

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t take too long on your weird walk, or George will have a conniption.” Sapnap commanded, with obvious affection for his friend. “He’ll start like moping and crying, and on stream too, and then the chat will be in my indirects. Anyways, bye.” 

George muttered a quiet, “Shut up.” 

“Farewell, then.” Dream very carefully swung the pack over his shoulder, unable to wear it correctly. His arm was too stiff and painful to be worrying about straps. These two had flipped so quickly between polite and rude, generous and violent, that he still didn’t trust them. He made no promises or oaths to return at all, only eyed them warily as he turned to leave. When he made it to the line of trees, he looked back over his shoulder once, and watched George and Sapnap shove each other playfully for a heartbeat before he disappeared between the gold birch saplings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Broken Bones - CRX](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=P_xA3shRTZSTa_eqlMj59Q)
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp.


	3. Die Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone._
> 
> “What the hell, George?” 
> 
> Things went downhill from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to make this public, just because I haven't seen anything weird yet. Play nice. 
> 
> Also sorry this took so long,,, I fucking forgot george is colorblind and had to rewrite.

> _Looking for some trouble tonight,  
> _ _Take my hand I'll show you the wild side._

* * *

**_Sapnap_ **

Sapnap and George had been on the server for less than an hour when they stumbled across the person trespassing. The field of grass was a nice change of scenery after ages of only forests and mountains, and contending with leagues of rowdy undead, and Sapnap could feel a little of the tension drain from his shoulders. 

“Come on, take some of the food at least.” George interrupted his train of thought, loud and insistent. He could tell that George was enjoying the open air, largely because he was so much more antsy than usual. All the pacing and chattering going on behind him, was making it difficult to concentrate on his self-assigned task. 

Sapnap took a break from swinging his sword at the grass, growing well up to his waist, just so that he could give George a dirty look. He was summarily ignored, his friend too busy ripping tiny blossoms off of the top of the grass and tossing them over his shoulder. 

“Listen. We both know I’m better at PVP, and there’s only one sword.” Sap explained, holding up the weapon he’d been using to cut a path for them. “I’m fighting, and you’re carrying our stuff.” 

“It’s not PVP if it’s just you fighting zombies.” George teased, rolling his eyes. “And we would have two swords if you hadn’t lost yours, anyways.” 

Sapnap groaned, recalling the nice iron sword he’d made, and then dropped and lost in a cave the last time they were on. He had almost slipped and fallen into a sudden vertical in the caves, and the sword had fallen into the pitch black many, many feet. Clanging and clattering the whole damn way. And the noise had summoned a wave of monsters too. Even if they had been able to climb down and get it, the sword probably would have needed major repairs to be usable, and they had already torn down their forge in preparation for moving. 

After a moment of silence for his lost sword, Sapnap sighed. “Whatever. _Combat_. You know what I mean.” 

“Even more reason to carry the food. You don’t have to wait for me to give it to you when you get hurt.” 

Yeah, yeah. He wasn’t falling for that. Sapnap didn’t bother replying, already turning back around and hacking away at the grass again. He could see George out of the corner of his eye, pacing around again, before suddenly stopping and taking out his server scroll. 

George was kind of a weirdo about keeping track of how much time they had left in their game, especially lately. It had become standard for George, every five minutes it felt like, to put everything on pause and check the timer on his server scroll — which didn’t even make sense, because Sapnap knew for a fact that George had already bragged about changing his entire schedule just so that he could book the holoroom for three hours at a time. 

Time in the game was strange. That was the thing about this console, it had been designed to operate while players were in the earliest stages of sleep. It was meant to help with the immersion of it, so that the brain would simply gloss over anything weird or not quite right, just like it would in a dream. In a weird way, they were sleepwalking through the game, and despite having some connections to the real world — like the server scrolls, and the streaming drones when they used them — it was hard to tell just how much time had passed. The artificially shortened days felt normal, and everything and nothing could happen in just an hour. 

So Sapnap didn’t pay much attention to his timer. On more than one occasion he had gotten kicked out, mid-conversation, but his friends were largely used to it by now. And besides, it didn’t hurt. It sorta felt like waking up from one of those dreams where you trip or fall. At most, it gave him a little kick of adrenaline to help him shake off any lingering sleepy feeling. 

George spoke up again, paranoid as always. “Sap, how much time do you have left? Do you reckon we’ll get there this session?” 

With exaggerated annoyance, Sapnap sheathed his sword and gestured to pull out his own server scroll, scanning down the page to find the timer at the bottom. It glowed lightly, and ticked down. “Uhh, only an hour. I think the badlands are still… miles out. I don’t know. As long as we stay going west, we’ll definitely hit them. They’re huge when they generate. I think we can get there in time if you’d stop _complaining_ and slowing us down.” 

“Me?!” George waded out of the path that he was making, stomping through the grass. “You’re the one wasting time on this. We’d probably go faster just by walking normally.” 

True, but he wasn’t about to admit that. His voice was rough in mock anger as he crossed his arms and tried to hide his grin. “Oh really, scooter boy? I bet you don’t make it two steps without tripping over your own feet.” 

“Fine. Let’s make it a race then. Whoever loses has to carry our stuff.” George was already adjusting the bag on his shoulders, eager to get the sword back for a shift. Even if it was just for a half hour or so. 

Sapnap took a moment to adjust his sword belt, tightening a strap here and moving the weight of the sword around experimentally. After a moment of fidgeting from the both of them, he kicked the grass down flat and stuck his tongue out at George. “Ready? On your marks —” 

And he took off, leaving George shouting at him and scrambling after him. 

His friend managed to catch up, and gain ground as well, mostly out of sheer luck. Sapnap took a small tumble, falling into a dip in the ground and flailing as he tried to regain his balance. It gave George a few seconds to get ahead — of course, it didn’t matter much because a few moments later he tripped as well. 

Sapnap had to sort out his armor and sword again before standing, and when he was righted he didn’t see neither hide nor hair of George. Jesus christ, if the guy had somehow managed to find the only loophole in the console’s force limiter and knock himself out cold, Sapnap was going to have to call an ambulance and then milk this for weeks. 

He stumbled over to where George had fallen, and stopped short a few paces away from the — well, person. 

Green. Dark clothes, and a white mask. He drew his sword and stepped closer. Not a zombie. They’re almost human, no rotting flesh in sight. But the shock of pale hair, and the pointed ears aren’t typical. 

The thing about VR is that it’s not that weird for people to make themselves other. Usually it’s furry and anime shit. Sapnap hadn’t ever partaken in the practice of rigging up downloaded models or trying to craft his own. It was way too much work, and just dressing up for a scan was easier. George was similar, if a bit neglectful about updating his. They knew a couple of people with custom models, but they were usually just minor changes or add-ons — or, once again, furry and anime shit — and somehow this felt different. 

Maybe it’s the fact that no one is supposed to be here, or how the stranger looks like they might be sick. Its skin is green tones, a weird choice already, but it seemed feverish, with ruddy-looking auburn splotches down its neck and arms. It’s sweaty looking, their clothes disheveled, and their silvery off-white hair was tousled and damp. It stuck out around the mask — which, by the way, was also extremely creepy. It’s bone colored with a painted-on and carved face with little patterns around the edge and under the eyes. 

Sapnap wasn’t even sure how it was functional, what with the crack down the middle of it and the lack of eyeholes. For some reason the getup with the mask and all reminded him of funereal rites. It just looked off. 

The intruder on their server looked so wrong in so many different ways, that he almost missed the goddamn tail. 

“What the hell, George?” 

Things went downhill from there. 

* * *

**_George_ **

Sapnap logged off after escorting George back to spawn. As they were walking back, he claimed that he had just remembered a homework assignment he needed to do, but this came directly after George suggested that they build a safe base and farm for the mystery person on their server to return to. But that was fine, he understood that Sapnap just didn’t trust the guy, and had no qualms about the whole thing. 

It just meant that he was in charge of cleaning up. And instead of his friend being there to tell him that he was being an idiot, for believing that the person would come back and wouldn’t just hole up somewhere, he had his brain taking the job instead. He took turns berating and debating his own thoughts, while cutting down the trees around spawn and attempting to put together a shack that could be called trustworthy-looking. 

That was the critical thing, George thought, to make sure that anything he put here was inviting and didn’t look like a trap. How he was supposed to do that wasn’t immediately clear to him, except to decorate with cute stuff. Quaint...and gentle? Like flowers. 

He picked a lot of flowers, meandering around and trying to think of anything else he could add, only to realize once he had an armful of them that he didn’t have the materials for vases. He would have to abandon spawn, and collect a few mats, to make a furnace. 

It wasn’t rational, but he didn’t want to leave. 

Arms full of flowers, he sat down hard in the doorway of the rickety building he had made. 

He was stuck. Confused. Why did he want to stay so badly? Fear of missing out on whatever this was? He was intrigued but… did he care that much? Did it really matter to him that he solve this person like they were an ARG? Or was he just interested in having a story to tell to his chat? It could be an interesting story. Could. Maybe. Hard to say. 

Thank god he wasn’t allergic to virtual pollen. 

And then he was startled awake, sitting in the darkened holoroom with nothing in his arms. He had forgotten to keep track of his timer in all that silliness. With a sigh, George stood and dusted himself off. 

Well, he couldn’t stick around. The pages would come looking for him, now that his time was up, ready to scold him and kick him out. They were religious about doing their rounds, clearing out stragglers, and keeping the rooms clean. 

George stepped out of the room, just a few feet wider than his wingspan, and glanced both ways down the hall. No one around. It was close to midnight now, but that didn’t really matter when the library was open 24/7. Sort of. The doors locked at night, but people were always here, and you could usually get in if you had your card with you. 

He made his way out, stopping by the lockers to pick up his bag and scooter, and then he wandered out into the night and back home. 

He came back two days later, stopping by the library just after work so that he could briefly, very briefly, check to see if anyone had visited his shack. George frowned, staring at his server console while he turned it back on. He had been hoping that it would still be on, which would have meant their stranger hadn’t logged off, that they were still there, out wandering somewhere. Not the case, though it was clear some time had passed. 

The shack was untouched, but a wilted pile of flowers were sitting in the doorway now. Some number of in-game days must have happened. He couldn’t figure out the number, but it meant that they must have lasted for a few hours at least. Probably not longer than a day, and that was pushing it. 

Sapnap didn’t return to the server either. He changed the subject when it was brought up, and preferred hanging out on their streaming server. After a week of logging in and waiting to see if the stranger had been online, with nothing to show for it George deleted the whole thing and started a new one. It was a long shot. He didn’t know why or how they had run into the person, but something must have triggered it and he was desperate to find out. 

He scoured through new single-player worlds, and then made new multiplayer servers too. It was slow work, since he couldn’t stop himself from checking at least a six kilometer radius before giving up. It would take him nearly a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Die Young - Kesha](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=yvn8bSWpShOPJBdhjncVEA)  
> Although the Penny Parker version is def my inspiration at the moment. 
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp.


	4. Sometime of the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,  
>  Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,_
> 
> He was injured, had nearly no magic, and was lost — no. Not lost. He was… misplaced. A bit stranded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: Blood, injury.**
> 
> Back to Dream's POV.

> OBERON  
>  _I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,  
> _ _Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,  
> _ _Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,  
> _ _With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:  
> _ _There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,  
> _ _Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight;_

* * *

The first time that Dream awoke and found himself completely untethered, it was a harsh shock to his body. There was a yawning emptiness in his chest where his magic was supposed to be, only tattered pieces still left hanging on here and there. His blood felt thick and heavy in his veins, his breaths were labored and slow, and his body seemed generally unwilling to move. For a few moments, despite the creeping horror at his situation, he couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. 

A wave of dizziness passed over him, and it forced him to open his eyes and search for some kind of horizon. He needed to ground himself, to the world and to his magic, so that he could pick himself up and figure out where he was. 

He opened his eyes and the night sky lit up above him, dimmed only by his mask. There were no clouds in sight, just a vast array of stars arranged in shapes that he didn’t recognize at all. Dream considered himself very familiar with constellations and how they changed throughout the seasons, but none of those were here. There was no north star, no milky way; it was just as likely to be winter as it was to be summer. 

Dream pushed himself upright, ignoring the stiffness in his arms and shoulders, and the sand under his hands shifted. Ah. A beach. The water lapped at the sand only a few feet from him, surprisingly gentle in its sound and efforts to erode the land, and stretched out to the distance. He couldn’t recall the last time he had been to a beach — although his head was too fuzzy to really recall much of anything at the moment. Dream turned his head, hungry for any familiar landmark or something to orient himself with. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here, but judging by the state that he was in, he could hazard a guess that it hadn’t been pleasant. The other concern was that he didn’t have a strong connection to his home. He could feel a slight pull, away from the water and back inland, but he wasn’t sure it was good enough to navigate by. And since the stars in this sky seemed cold and indifferent to his plight, it was going to be doubly hard, but he couldn’t stay here. 

He stood, brushing the sand from his clothes while he tried to decipher what he had been doing before he ended up here. He had his mask, usually meant for ceremony, but he was wearing very casual clothes. None of his gilded gear or clothes, and the largest absence he felt was his weapons. Even as he was standing he had moved his hand to rest it on the hilt of his sword, only to find that it was missing, along with its sheath. He had nothing to protect himself with. At least he had his cloak. 

Dream trudged tiredly away from the waterline, climbing the tall dune ridge with none of his usual grace. The sound of the waves fell away quickly, overwhelmed by the breeze uninhibited by trees and the sound of crickets. Here and there, patches of wiry, short beachgrass grew, clumped together in larger and larger islands. Dream crouched down when the sand started to fade away, his head tilted and listening to the bugs intently. The sounds seemed to come in every direction. 

Oh well. He was too tired to solve this particular riddle. He sat down on the grass and dumped the sand out of his boots, trying to shake loose every single grain so that they wouldn’t come back to haunt him while he traveled inland for who knows how long. 

While he was putting his boots back on again, and tucking his pants into them, he caught movement just on the very edge of his vision. A figure — incredibly lanky and pale, obscured partially by a sand dune. Dream froze, remembering that he was completely unarmed, and wondered what kind of creature he would discover on a beach in the dead of night. 

He hesitated, and then got himself up again, standing tall and peering over at the person. 

No, not a person. One of the undead. Its flesh had weathered away to nearly bone, and it seemed it was being held together by only ligament and sheer magic. He relaxed a little, suddenly less worried about his whereabouts. Cauldron-born did not wander too far from home without exceptional circumstances, and this one wouldn’t have made it far without being more… substantial than it was. 

Dream wandered over, curious about its purpose. Be it ego, or naivete, he half-wondered if it was here for him, and if it might be able to escort him home. After all, here he was, a being of magic, and here it was, a being constructed with magic. What were the odds that they would encounter one another by pure chance? Nothing was by chance. 

He crested over the dune that the skeleton was behind, and found it pacing casually. The brittle bones creaked, and occasionally clunked against each other. Now that he was closer, Dream’s blurry vision clarified a little, and he could see the outline of a bow in the creature’s hand, as well as it’s quiver slung over its shoulder. And that, he thought, was odd. Most cauldron-born were knights, or infantry. An archer was at the very least uncommon. He paused where he was, looking down at the skeleton. 

Just as he was starting to think that this was not one of the realm’s cauldron-born, the creature turned and spotted him. No eyes, of course, just dark sockets and a brow and cheekbone highlighted by moonlight. As it stared at him it gave a rattling wheeze, grip tightening on its bow. Dream was undeterred, used to the unpleasant sounds of many creatures, and curious to see if the thing would react to his presence. Even if it wasn’t cauldron-born, he reasoned, the undead were usually only aggressive to those what had wronged them in their lives. He would be fine. 

The skeleton, undeterred by these facts, nocked an arrow. It moved quickly, efficiently, drawing the bow and loosing in a single movement. 

It shot Dream. It shot him, without any provocation. The shaft and fletching seemed to sprout from his shoulder like it had been seeded and grown there, and his surprise masked the pain of the impact. Dream stumbled back, and the sand gave way underneath him, letting him fall on his ass to add insult to injury. 

He gasped a curse, pressing his fingers around the wound, and blinking. When he looked up from the offending arrow, he saw that the skeleton was already taking another from its quiver and preparing to draw. Shaking off some of his initial shock, Dream scrambled to get away, dropping down on the opposite side of the sand dune. He used it as cover while he collected himself. 

Another wheeze, this one more like a hiss, and a skeleton staggered into view. This one looked even more decrepit and old, somehow. It had no jaw, and was missing a fair few nonessential bones. As it stood in front of Dream, it hissed and wheezed at the other undead somewhere behind him, who seemed to respond in kind — like a crude imitation of language. Call and response, but without any apparent meaning, except perhaps to intimidate. 

Dream needed to get out of here, but he needed a weapon more. Still clutching at his shoulder, he threw himself at the second skeleton, aiming a hard kick at its knee. Its bones were dry and brittle enough that the creature’s eroding kneecap snapped, and the whole leg collapsed. The arrow it had been preparing to shoot was let loose, flying over his shoulder and then dropping like dead weight in the sand only a few paces away. 

Quite nearly desperate, Dream pinned the creature down with his knee on its rib cage and ripped the bow out of its skeletal hands. The heft of a bow was comforting, even if the texture of the wood left a lot to be desired. It felt shoddily made, and rough, like it was going to give him splinters if he looked at it wrong. Still, it was at least capable of flexing enough to shoot, and that was plenty for his purposes. Dream reluctantly pulled his other hand away from his shoulder so that he could reach past the skeleton’s hissing skull and pull an arrow from its quiver. There wasn’t enough time for him to grab the whole quiver, not when the first undead was still a threat, rattling and climbing the sand dune behind him. 

Ignoring the tearing pain, he pushed his shoulder to its limit and fired a full-draw shot at the skeleton. These arrows certainly weren’t broadheads but the skeleton wasn’t made of living bone. Dream’s arrow pierced its eye socket, and its head jerked backwards unnaturally from the force. Not a killing blow for the undead, but it gave him enough time to maneuver the quiver off of the pinned skeleton’s shoulder, breaking a few bones as he went. 

A bow and arrow were fine weapons for creatures with flesh and blood, but they weren’t great for the current situation. Considering his position, Dream opted that the smartest thing to do would be to flee. He was already injured, and the number of arrows or the physical force that it would take to fell even one of these was going to make his injury worse. His arm was already shaking from the effort of firing only a single shot. It was too risky, especially if it turned out that there were more of these crawling around the beach. So, instead, he shouldered the quiver, stood and crushed the pinned skeleton’s skull under his heel, and then turned and fled. 

Not his proudest moment, but he’d done plenty less honourable things to survive. 

The good news was that, as he darted inland, despite the grass growing everywhere, there were still the occasional sand dunes for a stretch that helped to break line of sight. It seemed that every few seconds he spotted more of the undead, some more fleshy looking than others, and other strange figures in the distance. They didn’t seem to be shaped like people, not properly anyways, but he blamed it on his poor vision and elected to not get any closer than he already was. 

The first tree that he came upon was a twisted and windbent cypress, but it had managed to reach an impressive height. And it looked sturdy enough. Dream took off the quiver, and fumbled with the leather strap, unbuckling it hurriedly so that he could buckle it around his waist instead. It took longer than he liked, and by the time he started to haul himself up the tree he was already seeing spots in his vision. In a haze of pain, he climbed as far as he could, and practically collapsed when he made it to a branch that looked like it could carry his weight. 

In the process, he lost one of his arrows. The quiver was jostled too hard, and an arrow slipped free before he could shift his hold and catch it. It clattered against the trunk of the tree and landed in the grass somewhere below. Oh well. He would have to hope that none of the creatures around could actually track him in earnest, and maybe retrieve it when the coast was clear. 

When he was settled safely on his branch, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Not that there was much to be relieved about. He was injured, had nearly no magic, and was lost — no. Not lost. He was… misplaced. A bit stranded. But he still felt a connection to something, faint and quiet, and it had to be his realm. He just needed to take a break, do what he could for his shoulder, now soaked in blood, and then get home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Veridis Quo - Daft Punk](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=X-LmO49sTHSwZFEd8apTsA)
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy or Tubbo because that's kinda weirdchamp.
> 
> **P.S. Comments are cool :')**


	5. Unto Thine Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He that is strucken blind cannot forget_  
>  The precious treasure of his eyesight lost
> 
> “Tell your cat that Grimalkin is dead.” Dream called out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Blood, injury. (not as bad this time)
> 
> Happy holidays! This one was a bit rough to write. Apologies in advance if the tone isn't quite right.

> ROMEO  
>  _O, teach me how I should forget to think._
> 
> BENVOLIO  
>  _By giving liberty unto thine eyes;  
> _ _Examine other beauties._
> 
> ROMEO  
>  _'Tis the way  
> _ _To call hers exquisite, in question more:  
> _ _These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows  
> _ _Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;  
> _ _He that is strucken blind cannot forget  
> _ _The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:  
> _ _Show me a mistress that is passing fair,  
> _ _What doth her beauty serve, but as a note  
> _ _Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?  
> _ _Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget._

* * *

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until voices woke him. Luckily, he had wedged himself well enough against the trunk of the tree, the bow resting in his lap, that he hadn’t woken up from falling. Dream checked himself over quickly, and was glad to see that most of the bleeding had stopped. The stains on his tunic and cloak had turned dark and hardened. Of course, that would change when he inevitably had to remove the arrow still embedded there, but at least he knew that he was still capable of healing and hadn’t bled out in the night. 

The voices drifted closer, far below him, and he realized that indeed what he had thought was two people conversing was actually only a single person and what appeared to be a cat meowing in reply. Dream peered down from his perch, leaning sideways and using his tail to keep his balance. Something compelled him about this scene, the tidbits of it that he could see; a mewling cat plodding along, dutifully keeping up with a short, brunet boy in casual clothes. The human was wearing a more… contemporary style, with jeans and a plain shirt, but he still had a sword at his side. 

Dream couldn’t make out any more details from his position, but he watched them approach, clearly making their way down to the beach. It was probably chance that they were even going to pass under the tree where he was holed up. 

“— only need enough for a couple of windows. I don’t think it should take that long, so I think afterwards we’ll see if Sapnap’s online yet and ask him if he wants to try out some of the plug-ins. We can just mess around.” The human had something in its hands, and it glanced between that and the cat, who watched it attentively. “And if he’s not online… then, I’m not sure. I guess you guys can decide.” 

A few seconds later, the cat meowed loudly. 

The man laughed nervously, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. “No, we’re not. He has a lot of schoolwork. I think. We’re not fighting, he’s just busy. You don’t have to worry about me. Actually, we were thinking about making a vanilla server, and seeing if Sam and Alyssa and a couple of others would be interested in joining.” 

English, and yet entirely indecipherable, Dream thought. The whole scene was impossible to parse. Not even he could understand beastspeech, but here was someone speaking casually to a house cat, out in the open. Surely it must be one of his kin, glamoured to look so… mortal. 

Impelled by the thought, Dream rushed to deal with his injury before they made it to his tree. He pried the arrow from his shoulder, ignoring the burst of new pain buzzing down his arm as he forced the object back out of the wound that had already tried to start healing. He grunted at the effort, and of course he started bleeding anew, but the arrow was surprisingly intact. The edge of the arrowhead was a little blunted, either from age or from the coating of blood, but it was still sharp enough for cloth. Dream used it to fray the hem of his tunic and managed to cut his thumb on the damned thing, but he still teased a single brown thread free. 

With nowhere else to put it, he shoved the arrow into his quiver with the rest, and paused to glance down and track the progress of the cat and human. He watched them pass under the branches of the tree from several feet above them, while he poured the last, tiny ounce of magic he had into his injury and tied the thread into a knot with the aid of his teeth. 

The bleeding stopped immediately. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to heal what he was quite sure was a slight fracture in his shoulder blade, or most of the damage done to soft tissue, but he wasn’t in danger of bleeding out. And that was enough for him. Dream grabbed the bow from his lap and leapt from the branch, landing lightly in the grass. 

“Tell your cat that Grimalkin is dead.” Dream called out. The pair had already passed the tree, and the man’s back was to him. It could have been advantageous to fire at least a warning shot, but he restrained himself, if only to spare his shoulder. 

The man nearly startled out of his skin, spinning around and choking out a gasp. The mackerel cat turned too, but instead of meowing or looking surprised, it jumped onto its owner’s shoulders and stared at him with wide, golden eyes. Strange behavior, but then again, cats were strange anyways. 

“You!” The human stepped towards him aggressively, brows furrowed in confusion. “You’re back.” 

Dream took an even step back, only tilting his head in vague acknowledgement. He didn’t recognize the person, and they clearly recognized him, but some part of him still hoped that they were glamoured. Well, there was an easy way to check that. He blinked surreptitiously, glad that his face was hidden under the mask, and let his inner eyelids open just briefly. 

The world bloomed into brilliant light and clarified, uninhibited by the membrane. His vision was finally crystal clear, but overwhelmed with brightness that his eyes would never adjust to — most of which was coming from his own mask. He could see the layers of enchantments like bright oil sheen on water, affected just slightly by his movements and the shifting of the wind. Every once in a while, the magic bent just so, casting a brilliant glare into his eyes that was simultaneously tempting and also a good reminder that he should get this over quickly, and return to his reduced vision. 

The human was just that; perfectly human. There was no glamour, which would undoubtedly be even brighter than the enchantments on his mask. Not that they were entirely free of magic. Their figure, and the landscape, had a very slight shine to it, more like the glint of a coin than the incandescent rainbow of a proper piece of magic. Dream closed some of the distance between him and the human, head cocked in pure curiosity. Not a lick of spellwork in sight, not even on the cat. Something about this place was very slightly magical in nature, but naught more than that, and the only thing that made it unusual was that it was everything in sight instead of just one thing. 

Unsettled, Dream shut his inner eyelids. 

He had been so distracted by the elegant dance and lights, that he hadn’t noticed the human speaking to him. 

“— and Sapnap said I wasn’t allowed to talk about it anymore, so I just made a bunch of servers. Where did you go?” 

Dream stared down at the human, trying to parse what had been said while he hadn’t been listening, based solely on the tail end of it. The silence stretched between them. He could gather at the very least that the human recognized him, that they had met before in some form or another. Better to not admit right away that he had no memory of their meeting. He had learned long ago that revealing such a critical flaw or weakness too soon could easily be his downfall. 

“I don’t recall,” he said honestly, letting the implication be that he didn’t recall where he had gone. “But I can assure that I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“What?” The man looked up at him in confusion and disbelief, apparently taken aback by the response. He flushed a light pink color. “What’s that supposed to mean? Were you — were you looking for me?” 

“What else would I be doing?” Dream went along with the assumption easily, and circled around, trying to get a comprehensive look at the cat, but it watched him like a hawk. Its head moved like one too, steady and wide-eyed, like it was on a track, even as the human shifted uncomfortably underneath it. The effect was interesting to look at. He moved back to stand in front of the two of them, and planted one end of his stolen bow in the ground. 

“Well, Sap did sort of stab you. I thought maybe you wouldn’t want to come back.” The human shrugged. “Sorry about that, by the way. Sometimes he’s just — he gets…” 

“Protective?” Dream offered, frustrated. This wasn’t clearing things up quickly enough for his tastes. He pressed forward, bringing the bow with him like it was a staff. “It’s already forgotten. You said his name was Sap? Where is he, by the way? If he’s protective, shouldn’t he be here with you? There are… monsters wandering these parts, and I’d hate for you to stumble upon one with nothing to defend yourself with.”

There was a pause, and the cat chimed in with its own comment. It mewled loudly, startling its owner out of a confused daze. 

“No, no, he hasn’t been on the stream before.” The comment was directed at the cat, clearly. “And yeah, Sapnap. Sorry, I haven’t introduced you to the chat yet, and they want to know who you are. I didn’t even — well, we didn’t really meet properly anyways. Basically, _offline_ , Sapnap and I ran into him on our server — it was supposed to be a whitelist only server. Only, somehow, he was there and he didn’t look… um, well. Sorry, it’s been weeks. I think he ran off, and didn’t come back.” 

Dream sighed. The direction he’d been pushing the conversation towards had somehow been undermined by a damned cat. And he still had no idea how the two were speaking. It meowed again, and shifted his grip on the bow, leaning it against his torso so that he could offer his hand out to the cat. He started to raise his right hand, but quickly realized that it was still bloodstained from holding his wound, and switched to his left. Raising his arm hurt, and he winced at the effort, but he figured it was worth it to assess the temperament of both the house cat and its owner. 

He put his left hand at a calculated distance from the cat’s face, palm up and generally too close to the man’s face, and watched the reaction to it from the safety of his mask. To the human’s credit, he didn’t flinch away from the almost-touch, just moved his head back a bit and looked surprised. He even turned a little, putting the cat on his shoulders within petting distance for Dream. It seemed promising. Dream wasn’t reading as a threat, and that was encouraging. 

“It’s — it’s not a real cat. Not even in the game.” The human explained, his mouth tilted in an apologetic smile. “I’m sure chat won’t mind you petting them though. Ha, even if they didn’t want you to pet them, they can’t really stop you. It doesn’t work like that.” 

Dream bit back a half-baked response, choosing instead to pat the cat on its head as it simply stared back at him. He lowered his hand, as the muscles in his shoulder twinged. “I’m afraid I don’t remember much of our previous conversation, so I hope you’re not offended by my asking again; may I have your name?” 

The handshake was largely symbolic, but he still took a half-step back and put out his right hand, interested to see what the man might do. 

“Oh, I didn’t say last time.” George laughed again nervously, and after a second of hesitation seemed to come to some resolve. He took Dream’s hand, evidently unbothered by the dried blood. “It’s George.” 

“George.” Dream smiled brightly, warmth blooming in his chest. He could feel the fragments of his magic respond to the touch, and he didn’t care whether it was the simple trap or if it had something to do with the way that George’s touch felt familiar. It didn’t matter. He could taste the truth of the name on the back of his tongue, sweet and carefree, and that was plenty for him. Dream lifted his mask slightly, and lowered his head so that he could press the barest, feather-light kiss to the back of George’s hand, before finally releasing him. “You may call me Dream. In exchange for your honesty, I’ll be honest as well. I don’t remember our first meeting, but… I don’t believe I mind trying again.” 

George looked bewildered, mouth parted slightly like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure yet what it was. A slight blush was creeping up his neck, and he seemed to shrink back a little, confused. “Dream. Right. W — wait, what?” 

“I don’t remember our first meeting.” 

“At all?” George furrowed his brows, and crossed his arms. It was a slightly defensive stance, or maybe insecure. After a second of perplexed thinking, the man huffed a laugh. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Sapnap stabbed you, so it wasn’t a great first impression. You really don’t remember? Have you been hopping around servers for weeks?” 

Uncertain, Dream merely shrugged. He only wanted to give as much information as was necessary, and really he didn’t want to think too deeply about it at all. It was too troubling, how much he didn’t know about his circumstances. As they chatted, the cat continued to pepper in its own commentary here and there. 

“Well, I don’t think that’s Sap’s fault. It was just your arm, not your head, that he… stabbed.” His gaze was fixated on Dream’s face, the part of his chin and mouth that were exposed with his mask pushed up a little. Eventually, George blinked and looked down, pulling a scroll out of thin air. He unrolled it, and held it up for the cat to look at. “Here, chat. I’ll show you, um, he’s not real. The whitelist is on, me and Sapnap are the only people on the whitelist, and you can see who’s online — it’s just me. Sapnap thinks he’s hacking, but I don’t know. It’s weird. I can’t explain it.” 

Dream shifted his weight, uncomfortable. A part of him was offended that he was out of the loop, so to speak, but more so that a cat was apparently in the loop. He scoffed at the pair. “You tell me that the cat isn’t real, but you tell the cat that _I’m_ not real. How does that make sense? I can assure you that I’m very real. Do I not breathe and bleed the same as you?” 

“No — the — ugh, okay. Let me start over.” Gathering himself, George took a deep breath and rolled up the scroll again. It disappeared in his grasp. His face was sympathetic, but tinged with enough frustration that it didn’t come across as pitying. “So. You’re not from here, right? Last time, you were… lost, I think. You were asking where we are, so that you could leave — and I said there wasn’t anywhere to go. It’s just wilderness out there.

“Well,” he continued, glancing at the cat for a moment as if giving it an aside, “that’s not entirely true, there are a couple of monuments and that sort of thing, but it’s only infinite, generated biomes, except for the far lands. I told you that you would just walk forever, and — oh! I gave you a compass for spawn. Hold on.” 

He dug into the pockets of his jeans, fishing out an old-fashioned looking compass that he proffered eagerly. 

“Ah.” Dream refused the object tacitly, turning away slightly but making an effort not to step back. Humans and their iron. They were obsessed. “Everything about this place is strange. The night sky is different, and I’ve found that my senses seem off. I suppose I would have some difficulty navigating, but I have a hard time believing that I would take one of these.”

George held it out insistently, smiling a little. “Consider it, um, a sort of apology for Sapnap and the stabbing. Even if you don’t remember, I feel bad.” 

An apology. Interesting. He was compelled to accept it, despite himself. Dream sighed and held out his hand, letting George drop it into his palm. It felt warm in his hands, and leeched the warmth from his fingers. He stared down at the little piece of human invention, watching the arrow turn insistently. It pointed what seemed to be east, inland and down the coast, where the sun was still rising, just shy of midday. The tangled mess of his senses told him the direction was more like south by southeast. 

“Hello.” 

Dream looked up sharply, the reply already falling out of his mouth before he could process his surprise. “Hello?” 

George laughed to himself. “Just wanted to see if you’d still do it.” 

His tail curled angrily, but he busied himself with finding a place to store the compass. It wasn’t too much iron, but if it was on his skin for too long, no doubt he would start to feel the effects. Dream started to put it in his pocket, and then changed his mind and tucked it under one of the straps that went around the quiver. At least there, it wouldn’t be pressed up against his thigh for too long. He muttered to himself about the human’s impropriety, only to be interrupted by said human. 

“Anyways,” George looked around absently, “we’re in a video game. You said you knew what computers are last time, so it’s that. A game on a computer, but somehow you’re in it. All of this is fake, like an illusion. I don’t know how you’re here, but you are.” 

As Dream tried to digest this explanation, George sighed and continued on. 

“Sapnap’s going to think I’m an idiot for trying to explain this again. Maybe I’m just gullible or falling for a trick, but whatever.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if you’re a hacker who likes to roleplay or you’re just a really bugged update. I just think you’re… interesting. And I’m not letting you run off like last time so you can disappear. If I have to explain this stupid game one more time, I’ll — I don’t know, scream?” 

“It’s a trick.” Dream told him frankly, mouth curling into a grim smile. 

George froze, frowning back. “What?” 

“It’s a trick,” he said again, sure of himself. “You find me interesting like flies find the smell of a pitcher plant interesting. At least, you should. I _am_ injured, and the way you describe this video game it seems as though you’re not really here. So, I suppose it might not work as well as it should. From what it sounds like, it didn’t work at all on your friend.”

The human just stared, his face morphing further into confusion and disbelief. The cat meowed in such a way that Dream would have described as drily if he didn’t know any better. 

“Sounds like you think you’re hot stuff — hot _shit_ .” George muttered, his mood obviously souring. “Whatever, I can’t take you seriously when you have a _tail_.” 

Acting on furious impulse, Dream took several steps back, snarling and ripping an arrow out of his quiver. He had nocked and already drawn by the time he felt any flicker of doubt, and it wasn’t enough to stop him from letting the arrow loose. It slammed into George’s chest, just shy of center, though not very deep despite how close they were standing. He hadn’t been able to do a full draw before his left arm had started to shake and cramp painfully. 

George for his part looked surprised and appalled. He stumbled a little, and grasped at the arrow. “You — did you seriously just shoot me because I made fun of your tail?” 

“Does it hurt?” Dream’s lip curled. “If this really is just a game, you should be fine.” 

“You’re such a —” In a puff of glittering dust, George disappeared, his words cutting off sharply. The cat that had been sitting on his shoulders started to fall, but before it could land on the ground it disappeared as well. 

Dream was left standing under the tree, alone. 

The sudden silence hit him like a wave, and he sighed. Humans always had to run their mouths. George was cute, but not cute enough that the insult could be tolerated. He was well within his rights to retaliate, or would be if he were home. Even though he knew that, a creeping feeling of regret was clawing at his stomach. If he was perfectly honest, he found the human interesting too, and it probably would have been a better idea to keep him around if he was willing to explain what was going on. 

Dream caved, and pried the compass off of the quiver again, double-checking the direction that the arrow was pointed. East, but not east. Dammit. What was wrong with him? He stormed off, leaving behind his temporary sanctuary and heading inland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Kill All Your Friends - MCR](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=HTduJpRrRpOgfry2vmsOAg)
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter, do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy, Tubbo, or Ranboo because that's kinda weirdchamp.
> 
> **P.S. I have a chapter of a thing written, but it's too early for a scene like that to be in the fic. I was thinking about uploading it separately, in a 3-part little vignette of Dream being soft with George and Sapnap and telling stories. Is that something you'd be interested, or would you rather wait for it to be placed within the story proper? Let me know ! <3 **


	6. Twisted Gyves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:  
>  And yet no further than a wanton's bird;_
> 
> By the time that he was fully immersed in the woods, the sun was settling low in the sky, and when it finally set he could really feel how alien this realm truly was. The shadows did not move, did not keep him out of sight as the roving undead hunted him down, and the sky was a stranger to him. The only familiar sight was the moon, and even that felt unreal, distant and cold. The crescent hanging in the sky felt as if it were there to taunt him, remind him of what was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **UPDATE:** I'd like to clarify my stance on sharing: I don't like when my fics are posted WITHOUT context, in ways I can't control. I am not on tumblr, so I stick with stance on saying please do not post this (the full text, snippets, or rec links, etc.) on there. However, I will alter my statement for twitter, and say that rec links on twitter (I cannot emphasize this enough: WITH appropriate warnings) are okay if I am tagged so that I can see them. My personal twitter is @grimfey. I just ask you be respectful, and if I request the post be deleted, please do so. Thank you guys for your understanding. Really, it's not even this fandom I'm concerned about. I've just had stuff happen in other fandoms that has traumatized me, so I apologize if all of this feels excessive. **Thank you!**
> 
> In other news: I swear I've been working on this nonstop but its all... in the wrong order. I've been writing scenes I can't post yet like a weirdo. So, sorry if it's slow but I promise writing is happening. Me and my fiance had a day this weekend where we challenged ourselves to write nsfw content and I ended up just writing 6 pages of later plot for this fic and some mild kissing. L's in the chat.

> JULIET  
>  _ 'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:  
>  _ _ And yet no further than a wanton's bird;  
>  _ _ Who lets it hop a little from her hand,  
>  _ _ Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,  
>  _ _ And with a silk thread plucks it back again,  
>  _ _ So loving-jealous of his liberty. _
> 
> ROMEO  
>  _ I would I were thy bird. _
> 
> JULIET  
>  _ Sweet, so would I:  
>  _ _ Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.  
>  _ _ Good night, good night! parting is such  
>  _ _ sweet sorrow,  
>  _ _ That I shall say good night till it be morrow. _

* * *

Dream learned several things on his journey towards spawn. 

The first, was that the darkness here is not his friend. Dream had never been afraid of the dark, not even as a child. The night sky was luminous, beautiful, and guiding. The moon was his friend, her soft beams of light like a gentle shower, and the stars were his kin, storytellers, and advisors. The milky way was a brilliant light that touched all but the darkest parts of the forest, glittering and winking in a way that was irresistible to watch. If you were north or south enough to view them, the auroras waving under the starlight were an incredible performance to behold. 

In the real world, he thought to himself as he was passing under the boughs of an oak tree, gnarled and grizzled but just like several other oaks he had wandered past, the shadows cast by moonlight were more playful. There was a special freedom that they had during the night, that they couldn’t during the day. They danced and twisted, and bent their shape to hug him and hide him from prying as he moved past their homes.

That was not the case here. He spent half a day trudging through shrubland, following the iron arrow in the compass and feeling his hands go numb, before he spotted a line of trees in the distance. By the time that he was fully immersed in the woods, the sun was settling low in the sky, and when it finally set he could really feel how alien this realm truly was. The shadows did not move, did not keep him out of sight as the roving undead hunted him down, and the sky was a stranger to him. The only familiar sight was the moon, and even that felt unreal, distant and cold. The crescent hanging in the sky felt as if it were there to taunt him, remind him of what was gone. 

The second thing that he learned was that the nights were short, and unwilling to linger. Time was painfully linear here, but in an abbreviated sort of way. Days and nights slipped out of his hands like smoke. The not-cauldron-born creatures that followed him, occasionally loosing arrows at his back, could be avoided well enough until the morning light returned and saved him. They were pesky, and frustrating to shake from his trail, so it was far easier to merely wait for the return of the sun to leave them smoking and burning behind him. 

Which led him to his next discovery; monsters, of a kind that he did not recognize at all. Those seemed to lend some credence to the idea that the world was shaped by a human hand, created rather than a parallel realm, because while he had touchstones for the undead and the overgrown spiders, he did not have any whatsoever for the others. The first night of his walk, he practically stumbled into a mottled green creature, tall as any human and struggling on four, stubby legs. Dream stepped around it easily, quickly, ignoring its hiss as it tried to climb over a tree root after him. He was unwilling to linger, and had already taken several steps past it, when it exploded behind him like flash paper. The force and speed of it was surprising, and nothing remained besides a blasthole in the ground, but he was mostly unharmed. Only his shoulder twinged in pain as he carried on. 

One of the other creatures was less disturbing. They were tall, vaguely humanoid, and looked like they had been crafted out of crude oil and purple stars. The more Dream saw of them, the more confused he became, and the more affection that he had for them. They seemed aggressively peaceful, wandering around, and picking up handfuls of earth or flowers. They didn’t speak words, but they had quiet, rasping voices, and murmured little sounds as they went about their business. Some of it reminded him of… someone, or someones. He couldn’t recall, couldn’t remember a single face. 

It came to him later, that if this world truly was made by humans, it would explain why the night was accompanied with such danger. However, it didn’t make him appreciate it any, not when their fears were endangering his person. 

While he journeyed through the woods, lamenting how rapidly the day cycled to night and vice versa, he also noticed that there were no quick paths, no shortcuts through the forest. He was forced to walk the full span of it, a night and a day and a night. 

The last realization he came to as the sun rose on his third day of walking. Dream paused before a small river, with a break in the endless trees. He was hungry. He crouched on the bank of the stream, in the river stones and silt, and watched the wind blow ripples across the water. His magic had always fed him and it was gone. The walk thus far had been somewhat meditative, contemplative, but as he stared down into the water and realized that eating was going to become a chore, necessary for survival, and not an indulgence, his frustration melted and gave way to molten anger. 

Someone was responsible for this. 

This wasn’t Styx, but it would do. 

Dream cupped his hands and drank from the stream, and swore to himself that he would find whoever had put him here and exact his revenge.

* * *

He nearly missed running into George. He was never in danger of truly being lost, but he supposed he would have ended up wandering around a little longer if he hadn’t been sidetracked by a cluster of mushrooms growing around the roots of a rather large tree. Must mushrooms he paid very little attention to, unnoticed because of his poor vision unless he was making a concerted effort to find them, however these were hard to miss. 

Fly agaric; brilliant little toadstools with shiny red caps and flakes of white veil. It was the first real proof, beyond the ambient bird and insect sounds, that anything other than grass, trees, and monsters grew in these woods. He supposed that was what drew him to the mushrooms initially, drawing him away from his path and over to the arched roots of a great oak. 

Dream perched on one of the roots, which was large enough and curved enough that his feet dangled just a few inches off the ground. Oak trees were interesting creatures, one of the few trees that really matured as they grew. Some trees sprouted young and stayed young, some sprouted old and stayed old. Oak trees were sweet when they were young, and brooding when they were old. 

He stared down at the fly agarics growing on the ground, waiting for… something. Anything. A frog, a deer, a bear, a fly. Anything to disprove the idea that all of this was an illusion. 

Nothing came. 

Dream sighed, leaning back against the wide trunk of the tree and looking up into the branches. He had only been here for a short time, but he missed life. Insects going about their business in their hidden worlds, the trodden trails that belonged to deer and their predators, the movement of the trees. Forests were always going somewhere, expanding and retreating, and he couldn’t feel that there. 

“We can’t keep meeting like this.” 

The voice surprised him. He flicked his tail as he turned, careful not to knock his elbow into the tree and bother his shoulder. It was George, of course. He looked annoyed, but the edges had been eroded down to something slightly softer by their short time apart. He was frowning deeply, his face guarded, along with the rest of him. The lesson George had taken away from being killed by a faerie, apparently, was that he should have been better prepared — not that he should be more careful with his words. Of course. George had strapped on leather armor here and there, some of it haphazardly dyed, and was sporting a sword at his hip too. The cat was there too, sitting patiently at his feet and staring at Dream. 

“Like this?” Dream asked evenly, raising an eyebrow at the mackerel cat, who in turn hopped up onto its paws and darted towards him. 

George gestured at him, making a low, throaty sound of disgust, and reluctantly following after the cat. “You lying around and being mysterious and injured. I can’t believe you one-shot me. You’re terrible.” 

The cat found a perch on one of the higher roots, making the leap from the ground with ease. It stretched briefly, before settling down and turning its gaze onto the two of them. It had certainly picked a good vantage point, and Dream elected to watch it back instead of giving any attention to the human. He was still a little offended by the tail comment, and the cat was an interesting mystery to solve regardless.

“I cannot much control either of those things,” Dream told the man, gently prodding his sore shoulder. Since he couldn’t heal it, he probably should have put it into a sling of sorts long ago. He’d be damned before he sacrificed his only clothes to that cause, though. “If my being injured is so upsetting to you, I’m sure there’s something you could do to fix it.” 

George hesitated, mouth slightly open like he was expecting Dream to elaborate. When he didn’t, George sighed and crossed his arms. He leaned a little against the same root that Dream was sitting on, glancing occasionally at Dream’s tail, waving angrily behind him. “What’s that, then?” 

The cat meowed loudly. 

Dream glanced at the animal, but was more interested in the way that George froze beside him. He looked at George curiously, watching the pink bloom on his cheekbones and his eyes widen in slight horror. There was no mistaking his embarrassment, and Dream was suddenly angry that he couldn’t understand the nonsense coming out of the cat. 

“What did the cat say?” He glared down at George, eyeing the man’s body language. 

“Nothing — nothing.” 

Dream’s lip curled. “Clearly it said something.” 

“Chat’s just… being chat.” George shrugged, but it was stiff and awkward. The blush on his face was deepening. “I didn’t explain how it works before, but the — the cat is a special drone. I said it wasn’t real, and that’s because it’s basically just a little robot with AI that moves it around. You can have them look like a bunch of different things; cats, dogs, whatever. The point of them, though, is for recording or streaming. It’s a camera, in game, and um… it’s rigged so sometimes people who are watching can say things through the cat. People are just saying dumb stuff, just making jokes.” 

Dream sat, taking all of it in, and trying to piece together what was being said. It was difficult to wrap his brain around, but made sense in some ways. Well, it didn’t make logical sense, but it explained how the cat behaved. More or less. He was a little unsettled by the idea of people watching him without him knowing, but at the same time it felt familiar. But these were humans, presumably, so he didn’t have to worry about his etiquette too much, right?

“How many?” He asked, leaning towards George. 

“Um.” The human floundered, nervously adjusting his shirt and armor. “Maybe a few thousand.” 

“What did they say?” 

George made a small sound of protest, then sighed and rolled his eyes. “They told me to kiss you better.” 

His face was still red as Dream barked a laugh, delighted by his discomfort and the silliness of the comment. If he was being perfectly honest, he would have said that he was relieved that the people watching were apparently of good humor. It was strange to need a translator, something he was sure he’d never experienced before, but that it made the man blush was entertaining. “We could try, but I don’t think it would do much good, unfortunately.” 

Wrinkling his nose, George quickly tried to divert the conversation. “I’d get you a potion, but I don’t… have anything. I haven’t even been to the Nether yet.” 

“Your — what?” 

“The Nether.  _ The  _ Nether — the Netherworld.” George groaned and rubbed his temple in obvious annoyance. “It’s a different world. Or plane, or whatever. You have to make a portal to get there, and it looks very different. It’s sort of like a hell dimension; on fire constantly, and a bunch of monsters. But it has stuff you can use to make potions, like a potion of healing. Which, I’m not even sure it would work on you because you’re so… weird. I’m guessing you won’t just tell me that you’re a part of the game, will you? Like some weird update I’m not supposed to see.”

“I swear on my life, son of Adam, that I am not some weird update for your game.” Dream answered easily, knowing that if it were not the truth, then he would not be able to say it. On the other hand, George doesn’t seem impressed by the vow. 

“You’re such an idiot.” He rolled his eyes at Dream. “Well, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you then. I guess I could… teach you the game? Ah, how about this — if you say sorry for shooting me, then I’ll teach you how to play the game.” 

Dream smiled down at him sweetly, showing his canines. “Never. How about this; you apologize for your impropriety and I won’t shoot you again.” 

George looked perplexed, glancing between him and the cat as if the cat was going to back him up on this. “What? You  _ killed  _ me! I think I deserve a ‘sorry’ for being murdered.” 

Unconcerned with what the human thought he deserved, Dream pulled one of the arrows from his quiver, and pretended to admire them. They were shoddily made of course, but at least they weren’t steel-tipped like so many modern arrows. And good fletching was nice, but not necessary if the prey was standing only a few feet from you. He twirled the arrow in his hand a little, before pointing it arrowhead-first at George. 

“Here’s what I think,” he said. “I killed you, while I was injured. Maybe you think it was luck — my good luck, or your bad luck — or maybe you think it was unfair, but the truth is that I could hunt you down and kill you with my own two hands if I desired it. It wouldn’t matter if you were wearing leather armor or platemail, unarmed or armed. I think it would be sporting to hunt you down like a dog and eat your heart, but I also quite like you and your chat.” 

Dream turned the arrow toward himself, and tapped it against his mouth while he smiled coyly. With all that had happened, there was no reason for him to be in such a conciliatory mood. He was gripped by a strange magic that had him stranded in a video game, his memory was either inaccessible or gone altogether, and he had been attacked by creatures he would have once thought were his ally. He had every right to not want to treat with this human, and yet… 

And yet. 

“So, I think I’d like to offer you a deal.” He said the words in a lilting sigh, smiling against the sharp edge of the flint arrowhead. George watched him with trepidation, a light flush still sitting on his cheeks. Dream paused, admiring the dappled sunlight on the man’s skin, before continuing on. “If you help me get out of this game, and back to my own realm, whole and safe, I will give you a gift. Any one thing that you desire, I can give to you.” 

George made a face at him. “That’s it? Any gift? I could ask for… something ridiculous. I don’t know. I don’t even know if you’re real.” 

“Have faith.” He purred, fairly certain that he had already hooked George. 

“What if I can’t? Are you going to kill me?” 

Dream waved at him dismissively. “Only if you ask nicely. Do we have a deal?” 

The man looked hesitant, like he knew that agreeing should be a bigger deal, but couldn’t think of a reason to turn down the deal. After a long, teeming silence where even the cat seemed to hold its breath, waiting for an answer, George finally groaned and nodded. “Alright, fine. Why not?” 

Dream slid from the root, and stepped up to him. The deal was already made, and he could feel the weight of unfinished business settling in his ribs, but he couldn’t resist stacking the deck in his favor just a little bit more and teasing the man. “We should seal the deal with a kiss.” 

George choked, stuttering and turning a pretty shade of red while the cat yowled something from off to the side. But he hadn’t backed away. “A k — a kiss?” 

“Of course. I’m partial to bloodletting, but the blood you bleed in here probably wouldn’t work. Since, as you said, this is a game.” Dream held up the arrow again, before putting it back into the quiver. 

“No, thanks. No bloodletting. Um.” George rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Okay.” 

Then he surprised Dream, turning his head away and avoiding Dream’s eyes as he grabbed the faerie’s hand. His hand was cool, shaking ever so slightly as he brought the hand up to his face. He hesitated one last time, before breathing out sharply and then pressing a small kiss to the back of Dream’s hand, just like George’s hand had been kissed only a little while ago. 

“There. Deal sealed.” 

Well, he couldn’t begrudge the human that. It was a kiss. Dream laughed, and let it be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Who Are You Really? - Mikky Ekko](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=-8DvkMyvQ1K65g-HNRYo7Q)  
> btw, I add a song to this playlist for every chapter, so it should grow steadily. 
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter (unless you tag me), do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy, Tubbo, or Ranboo because that's kinda weirdchamp.


	7. Thine Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine._
> 
> Dream could already feel the beginnings of a plan forming in his head, for how he would spend his time while he waited for a near-stranger to return and help him. He could hardly believe the pang of disappointment in his chest, at being left behind and tethered to this place like a leashed hound. Ridiculous. If he were in his right mind, he’d be relieved at the human leaving him alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! sorry if this is a bit rough writing-wise. I am once again...moving. this time to a different country. I've also been trying really hard to write a sex scene for the first time in my life, and also class has just started again. things hopefully will be more chill once i've moved into the new place. anyways, this chapter may be subject to a little bit of editing if I summon the drive to do it. we'll see.
> 
> also, just as a note: minecraft is probably going to be altered to suit my sensibilities, and to make sense within the context of a VR game that has like its own holodeck essentially. if there are things that are off about the game, this is why.

> GLOUCESTER  
>  _ Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. _
> 
> LADY ANNE  
>  _ Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! _
> 
> GLOUCESTER  
>  _ I would they were, that I might die at once;  
>  _ _ For now they kill me with a living death. _

* * *

He formed an agreement of sorts, a mutual understanding, with George. The tail was off limits for teasing, on pain of death, however temporary it might be. Almost everything else was tolerable, welcome even, if the human could be clever about it. For the most part, George was fairly quiet. He fielded questions from the cat, in between needling Dream, while trying to explain the rudimentary aspects of this game that he was now seemingly stuck in. They had made very little progress by the time they arrived at the supposed ‘spawn’ location that the compass pointed to. 

“Monsters spawn at night and burn when the sun comes up. They also don’t spawn near fire. So, you should probably stay at the base during the night until you’ve got the gear to take everything on —” George gestured at the very makeshift-looking cabin in front of them, and Dream  _ tsked  _ in agreement. He’d figured that much out. “I mean — you seem pretty handy with a bow, I guess. Oh, that reminds me. I have food.” 

The human extricated himself from the cat, dropping it carefully onto the ground so that he could jog to the front door of the cabin and let himself in quickly. Left behind, Dream looked down at the cat, watching it for any signs of intelligence beyond what George had suggested. He was still having difficulty comprehending the idea that many hundreds or thousands of people could be watching through its eyes, but it intrigued him. 

“Little ones,” he called as he crouched, flicking his tail, “you must be very strange if you enjoy following this man around for so long. He’s not very bright, nor very charming.” 

Chat merely watched him, sitting patiently. Every now and then its little whiskers would twitch, or its tail would curl, or its ears would swivel as if it was waiting for some signal, but it didn’t move besides that. Dream continued on, unperturbed. “Then again, he is pretty to look at. And I admit that I often do not understand the humor of mortal peoples sometimes. These are strange circumstances to meet under. First impressions are often misleading.” 

No response. 

“Very well. Keep your secrets.” Dream huffed a small laugh and petted the cat’s head experimentally. He had been told some of the mechanics behind the Chat’s presence, while they had walked. As far as Dream understood, George was standing in some distant computer room, and so was a piece of machinery, the drone, made out of lightweight plastic and metal. It held the same position relative to George as it did in the video game, up to a point. If they got too far away from each other, the drone would have to reset and the cat would teleport closer, which explained why it had disappeared after he had killed George. But, the point was, that to the human, the cat felt like a piece of machinery when petted, not like a cat with fur. 

So he petted it for himself, curious about how it would feel to him. 

It felt like fur, and certainly not the hard surfaces of a construct. Soft, although like most things here it felt like an impression of softness, and not softness itself. Dream scratched the cat behind the ear, indulgent to a fault, and tried not to be disappointed when it did nothing other than meow at him. 

“I can’t understand you.” He tutted at them. “Can you do anything other than speak? Any cute tricks?” 

After a few seconds of painful silence, the cat still staring wide-eyed at him, it suddenly started purring. He could feel the happy rumbling under his hand, and even moreso when he shifted his petting to the fluff under its chin. Dream smiled encouragingly. “Definitely cute. Perhaps not a trick.” 

“Alright, I have some bread, and I have enough stuff to make soup if you want some of that.” George interrupted, coming out of the cabin with a bag over his shoulder, an entire loaf of bread in one hand, and his little magic scroll in the other. “Dammit. I only have twenty more minutes left before I have to log off. I need to… I need to show you how to… shit.” 

“Shit?” Standing, Dream took in the man’s somewhat frantic state. George kept turning around, looking down at the scroll, and then to the cabin, and then out into the wilderness as if he couldn’t make up his mind on where to start. If he really had to leave soon, then he was wasting time being indecisive. “How long will you be gone?” 

The man shrugged, frowning deeply, and nearly dropped the bread. “Days. I’ve already reserved the same time next week. I’m not sure if the library will have time available in between now and then. I don’t have enough time.” 

“George,” Dream said seriously, just a slight amount of force behind his words. “I’ve lived my life in the wilderness. I’ll survive until then. Tell me what resources are nearby, food and then materials, and I can figure out the rest of it myself.” 

George nodded. “Okay. Food. There’s bread here and more in the chest inside, and ingredients for soup. Mushrooms, that sort of thing. There’s not much water left in the cauldron, but you can get some down at the river — I’ll walk you there. Other food… other food. Um, there might be sheep north of here, on the plains biome. That’s in the direction behind the house. By now they should have respawned, probably. 

“You can cook them if you like, and use the compass to get back. Just be careful, I don’t know how far it is.” While he was speaking, he shoved a loaf of bread into Dream’s hand and whistled for the Chat to follow. Dream followed him around to the side of the house and then back into the woods. George was hurrying again, marching into the woods and down a slight slope. “I’m sure there’s fish in the river too, but I haven’t really looked. Oh, I’ll be giving you my armor and tools as well. There are some mats in the chest, and tools around the cabin, and I’ll give you the sword so you can defend yourself.” 

“I cannot take the sword, but that you offered is very kind.” Dream could already feel the beginnings of a plan forming in his head, for how he would spend his time while he waited for a near-stranger to return and help him. He could hardly believe the pang of disappointment in his chest, at being left behind and tethered to this place like a leashed hound. Ridiculous. If he were in his right mind, he’d be relieved at the human leaving him alone. “Do you have anything made of… a different material? Something more agreeable.” 

George looked at him over his shoulder, one eyebrow quirked up in confusion. “More  _ agreeable  _ than iron? I don’t think so. I can only craft them out of two types of metal, iron and gold. And I’m sure you don’t want a wood one. There might be a gold sword in the chest, if I looted one somewhere, but they’re flimsy and not worth it. There’s other materials but they’re difficult to get. Anyways, here’s the river.” 

Here the river was, indeed. It was wide, and much deeper than the stream he had crossed, but it was still surprisingly quiet. The water was a bit slow-paced, set a little into the ground as if it had actually carved a path for itself, meandering around a bend and disappearing into the trees. Dream watched the water, looking for any of the supposed fish, but George pulled his attention back again. 

“You can make swords out of diamonds, but I don’t have any yet. You’d have to go mining, and I think it’s just a bit dangerous right now. You’re injured, and I don’t know if eating will heal you.” George sighed, and kicked a loose rock down the bank of the river, watching it splash into the water. “Maybe I’ll convince Sapnap to login while I’m gone but… that’ll require a talk first. I don’t want him chasing you off again.” 

“I’m sure I could handle my own.” Dream resituated the bread in his arms awkwardly, trying not to crush or dirty it, but also not to drop it. After a moment of hesitation, born from a reluctance to give up a weapon, he propped his bow up against the closest tree and pushed the mask up off his face completely. He had to hold in a smile when George’s eyes widened a bit and were instantly drawn to his. It’s not quite the level of surprise that he had expected, though, a tame reaction comparatively.

George carried on, taking a cautious half-step to Dream and pushing the pack at him. “Yeah, well, you shoulda seen how you looked at him when he cut your arm. I mean. You were wearing your mask but I could tell you were upset. You just… looked at him and gave up, like he’d doomed you.” 

That hit a little too close to home. It was the not knowing that was killing Dream, not knowing exactly how much time he had spent here with this man and just couldn’t remember, not knowing what they knew about him or had pieced together. It wouldn’t surprise him if they had figured out the iron thing, but it wouldn’t do him any favors bringing it up, so he feigned ignorance and confidence. But an image of himself, magicless and with iron poisoning, pierced the thoughts in his mind and pinned them in place. Defenseless, no healing. Even thinking about it felt like a cage slamming shut behind him. 

“Oh, come on.” Dream affixed the mask haphazardly to the straps of the quiver as well, and realized that he could do with a belt and quiver actually meant to be worn around the waist. This one was clearly made to go over the shoulder, and hung at an odd angle because of it. He took the bag from George, out of obligation and convenience, but he told himself that at some point he would have to stop and reflect on how much charity he was depending on. Some point, which wasn’t now. “I’m sure you were misreading. The mask hid my face.” 

“Yeah. Maybe.” George shrugged like he didn’t care either way. “Alright, I’m going to log out and say goodbye to chat. Do you need anything else? Before I leave? I swear I’m forgetting something.” 

Dream thought for a second, hefting the bag and circling around the human as he thought. Without his mask, the forest was a little prettier. The sun managed to cast a few beams of light through the leaves, and it sparkled comfortingly in his eyes as he looked over George again. “Besides monsters, and apparently your friend, should I be concerned about any predators in these parts?” 

“What — like bears? No.” The cat meowed, as if participating in the conversation, and George glanced down at it, shaking his head and continuing on. “Actually, sometimes you can find wolves, but they’re harmless. They’re more like feral dogs; just toss food at them and they leave you alone. You can tame them with bones, but I don’t know if you count as a player so it might not work for you.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“Me?” 

“How are  _ you  _ tamed? Dream clarified, sweeping his tail around himself slowly. He was fairly certain that he looked too silly for his wording to be taken as anything other than flirtatious, overburdened with bread and gear. He was hoping that he could make up for some of the silliness of it all with his face, but that hadn’t gone to plan either. “What do you enjoy?” 

George inhaled sharply and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped before he could get the words out. The question seemed to stump him. He turned to face Dream, face screwed up in confusion. His voice was soft, and stumbling. “I — what? What are you talking about?” 

“Not a very difficult question, I would think.” The snark had no bite behind it. 

The confusion morphed quickly into frustration. George shook his head and picked up Chat, before turning stubbornly away and walking back towards the cabin. “Is this really how you want to spend the last few minutes of my time? I won’t be back for a week, you should be… asking questions —”

“I  _ am  _ asking questions.” Dream trailed him, only a step or two behind. The Chat was peering at him over George’s shoulder, its ears swiveling back and forth to catch both sides of the conversation. 

“ _ Important _ questions. About the  _ game _ .” 

“It’s important to me.”

The walk back to the cabin was far quicker than the walk to the river had been, thanks to George’s pace. He was quick despite his short legs, and he carried on their conversation as if he weren’t trying to flee. When he made it to the door of the cabin he turned sharply, and glared at Dream. The cat crawled up his shoulder. 

“Anyways,” George sighed, realizing he had nowhere else to go, “since you have no more questions, I’m going to log off. Don’t get yourself killed, because I’m not looking for you again if you do. I — ugh, and when Sapnap gets on don’t be so… “

Dream blinked, absolutely certain he had no idea what George was implying. 

“… So?” He prompted, gesturing vaguely with his bread. 

“So… rude. And weird.” George stuck his tongue out. “Deal?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” He bared his teeth, equally playful. “I make no promises. Besides, you said he injured me. If that’s true, then any… rudeness is a little deserved. I am never rude to the undeserving.” 

“Yeah, sure.” The human waved a hand at him dismissively. He pulled out his scroll again, and muttered something under his breath. “Alright, chat. Say goodbye to the weird guy, and then we’ll do credits with the rest of my time.” 

There was a slight pause before the cat let out a litany of meows, which only seemed to exasperate George the longer they went on. It probably didn’t help that the cat was screaming directly into the man’s ear. Dream waved to the cat, unsure of what to say since he had no way of knowing what was being said to him. He could only hope that it was relatively polite. When they finally started to slow, George sighed one last time. “Okay. Bye, then.” 

“‘Till next time, Georgie.” The nickname earned him an eye-roll, but just before George disappeared in a small puff of smoke, Dream caught the very small smile he had on his face. And then he was alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Doubt - Hippo Campus](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/31Rat6cqWKixaa6sX0rWFF?si=6GwGM4hOTY-4ZC85Nl46rw)
> 
> **let me know if you have questions! I'm never sure if I'm getting the lore across in a way that makes sense. : P**
> 
> Do not share any fics here outside of ao3, please. Do not post on tumblr, do not post on twitter (unless you tag me - @ grimfey), do not post on wattpad, or any other site. They're for ao3 only. If you see it on a tumblr blog that uses RSS feeds to post fics especially please ask them to remove it (I'm not on tumblr). If I catch wind of any of that I will be removing this; that is a threat. I'll turn it back into a locked google doc.
> 
> The standard disclaimers apply: If the dream team ever decides they're not comfortable with fic, I'll take this down. I will not include romantic elements with people who have said they're uncomfortable with it and if I ever do it was probably an accident or out of ignorance so please tell me! I don't have plans to include Tommy, Tubbo, or Ranboo because that's kinda weirdchamp.


End file.
